Wrong Time, Wrong Place
by Rose Tinted Contact Lenses
Summary: Two-parter. Shepard and Joker try to deal with the anniversary of the Normandy crash, as well as a drunken confession... Strong language.
1. Wrong Time

_Works fine as a standalone, but also goes well with _Three Words, Coffee, Her Words, _and _From The Flames.

_If you're sensitive about language (and very drunk femSheps), you may not want to read on too far. Or you may want to cover your eyes. Whatever works for you..._

_**{Note to those who have read the others:** After wrapping up the Shep/Tali series I've been writing, I really wanted to finish the Shoker, too (that was always the idea). Unlike the others (one-shots), this is a two-parter. Also: a drunk Eva is a rather angrier Eva.**}** _

_Enjoy._

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><p><strong>Wrong Time, Wrong Place<strong>

**01 / 02**

**Wrong Time**

Shore leave for _everyone_.

_Seriously? _What is Shepard _thinking? _(He's still not used to calling her Eva, even with_... _how he feels. It just sounds _weird _when he says it.)

He tries to block out the noise of the crew filing out of the airlock - he's just relieved they've found a place to dock; the shuttle's cramped enough with... Eva and her squad.

Shouldn't she have got back to him by now, anyway? He thought she'd be getting out of the ship, enjoying the day off she's given, but he hasn't seen her once. There's been nothing from the Loft, either.

He finally works it out when he looks at the date on the controls, and the words are out of his mouth in a half-disbelieving murmur before he can stop them. "Aww, fuck no..."

* * *

><p>Kelly isn't here, otherwise he'd have her stupid "swear box" overflowing; hell, it's only to the elevator, but with his pace compared to the rest of the crew's, it feels like a marathon; at least this time, it's without a bunch of Collectors after him. He imagines what... <em>Eva <em>(still weird) might be doing, what state she might be in, and re-doubles his efforts. _Damn_ that woman. He only ever does stupid shit like this when _she's _involved.

* * *

><p>She's drunk. <em>Really <em>drunk. So drunk, in fact, that she nearly doesn't hear the door to her quarters slide open; she _does_ see Joker hobble in and carefully sit next to her on the bed. He holds a hand out without a word, and she passes him the brandy; he takes a mouthful, grimacing. "From Chakwas?"

She nods.

"Three years, huh?"

Three years since the Normandy - since _she - _went down in flames. Three years since she told him... She shakes her head. Can't think like that. She made a fool of herself; it was totally inappropriate - but then, so is getting so drunk you can hardly stand. On your own ship.

"You ever gonna talk? You think it's easy getting up here?"

A twinge of regret goes through her as she realises, somewhere in a part of her mind that's still sober, how painful the walk here must have been. She shrugs to herself; might as well say it. She looks at him, hearing the slur in her voice. "This... this ain't the Normany. 'S jus' pretending."

"The old crew, though..."

"Tali's busy. Garrus... 'calibrating'. That piece o' shit Kaidan's with the Alliance."

"C'mon, I know Alenko could be an asshole at times, but - "

Her pilot puts a careful arm round her shoulder, wincing, and she ignores the fact that her pulse has ratcheted up several notches. Not going to happen, she reminds herself. She's acted like she only wants him as a friend, and it's worked.

"Ash _died _fo' him. And he turns 'is back on the whole crew..." She sighs, turning to him. "The on - only one who ever stuck with me... is you."

Something changes in his posture then; she swears he shifts closer, and his voice is concerned, losing all of its usual snarkiness. "Eva?"

"An' then I screw'd it up. Screwed it all up, 'cos I had to go 'n' tell you... Tell you..." She stops suddenly, looking suspiciously at him. "Yeah, this is all your fault." All his fault for trying to go down with the ship; all his fault for making her feel like... _this._

He's wearing an expression she's never seen before, and suddenly the brandy bottle is taken from her, on her bedside table, and he's staring at her. "Tell me what?" When she doesn't reply, desperation creeps into his voice. "Tell me _what?"_

She looks up at him - were his eyes _always_ that green, or is it the brandy? - and mumbles something vague. She knows perfectly well what she's saying, but...

She looks at him, and something in her finally snaps. She's come out of a _suicide mission. _Like a _man_ - or a broken heart - is going to kill her. She's drunk, and she's tired, and she doesn't want to play this game anymore. "Tell you I loved you."

He looks at her in silence for a moment, the air electric with things unsaid, then says softly, "Guess it wasn't my imagination." His eyes dart to her lips, and he swallows; she's leaning in without knowing why, her eyes beginning to shut. His breath is on her lips, and it's so easy to close the distance...

He stops her with a hand on her shoulder; he's smirking, but his eyes are sad, and he can't look at her. "Nuh uh," he says, jokingly wagging a finger. "Maybe when you can _stand_."

She frowns, leaning back and looking at him as he gets up, leaning on the wall and letting out a grunt of pain; a coil of hurt is still knotted in her stomach at the rejection, her heart still aching. "OK, maybe when _I _can stand," he adds, walking painfully slowly to the door. She sees his expression, sees the way he's looking at her even less now, and realises that he thinks seeing him doing this will... What? Put her off? She shakes her head. She's known him for five years, been hoping for this for four, and it seems she's managed to screw it up. Again.

He looks back at her once, still leaning on the wall. "Eva?"

"Whu?"

"Tomorrow, 'kay?"

All she can do is nod, and watch her only chance make its way out of the door with him; that night, for the first time in months, the great Commander Shepard wakes up screaming from a nightmare about crumbling to ash in the void.


	2. Wrong Place

_If you've come back to this months later: thanks **so** much, and I admit that the delay was unfair. Story is here, with a short "bonus" epilogue - both out of inspiration and as an apology. _

_Corrected a slight date mess-up in the first chapter (thanks for pointing it out, ShadesOfMauve); I'm usually a bit of a stickler for canon, so I'm glad it's sorted._

_A chapter in which Eva and Joker finally Talk._

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><p><strong>Wrong Time, Wrong Place<strong>

**02 / 02**

**Wrong Place**

She wakes with a pounding head and tangled sheets, and, groaning, takes several minutes to force herself into a shower.

It wakes her up a little, she's relieved to find, and she takes her bleary-eyed and hung-over self down to the med bay. Chakwas looks at her with concern and a raised eyebrow, but can't seem to bring herself to be disapproving.

With the relief of some pain meds for her head, she looks a lot more like someone who could command an Alliance ship, and she heads to the CIC, stifling a yawn.

On course to Omega. Good.

She makes her way to the cockpit, leans over the pilot's chair to check the controls, and asks, "Got an ETA for me?"

She swears Jeff actually _jumps_, seeming far away, before looking at her with shadowed eyes. He seems just as exhausted as she is. "Huh?"

"An eeee-teeee-ayyy," she repeats, annoyingly slowly.

"Four hours," he replies shortly, looking back to the controls.

She frowns, quickly standing up; he's never been one for elegant sentences, but this isn't like him. He seems almost... _angry._ "Something wrong?"

He shakes his head, waves a dismissive hand. "Nothing, commander."

There it is again. _Commander. _Just when she thought they were making progress. She quickly steps away, suppressing the twinge of hurt, and begins the search for caffeine.

* * *

><p>That's <em>it?<em>

So she's forgotten last night. He guesses he shouldn't be surprised; she was barely sober enough to stand, never mind think. He grits his teeth, trying not to shake his head. How is he meant to explain any of what happened in her quarters?

Anyhow, it's not like she _meant _any of it; the brandy talking, that's all.

The brandy, he tells himself, as the thought slides back into his head, untrue and unwanted.

She loved him.

* * *

><p>She sips what the ship's dispenser seems to think is espresso with a grimace, looking up at hearing a laugh and loud, Scottish speech nearby.<p>

"Seen the state of him? Big night, I'd wager." Ken's voice lowers slightly - not quite enough, however, for her to miss the next few words. "O' course, barely anyone stayed on the ship. If ya ask me, the old crew were gettin' drunk..."

She exhales in a small, humourless half-laugh. Oh yeah. Not the old crew, though... just sad, lonely her.

Gabby interrupts with a hushed, hasty, "Shhh! She's _right_ _over there_. Besides, you'll get Joker in trouble."

Joker. Hung over?

It hits her like a brick, and she puts her head into her hands with a small groan as she remembers.

Him with her, the two of them mourning the old ship with a bottle of Chakwas' finest, most expensive brandy. His eyes on hers. A hushed admission...

_Shit. _She _told_ him, didn't she?

Rejection, as she expected - just the memory makes her cheeks burn in shame. The words aren't clear in her head, but they don't matter. It explains why he's been acting so strangely with her today; what she did was way out of line, and she _needs _to apologize.

She'll hate every second of it.

She sighs, standing, and leaves her cup with Gardner.

"You look kinda pale," he remarks, cocking his head as he examines her.

She waves his concern away with a sharper-than-intended "'M fine", biting her lip.

* * *

><p>He's making his way to the crew quarters at sometime near stupid AM, EDI having relieved him of duty, when he hears the voice behind him. "Helmsman."<p>

He raises his eyebrows at the unexpectedly formal address - it sounds wrong on her lips - as well as her sombre, flat tone. A dose of his own medicine, huh? "Commander," he counters, turning to look at her, curiosity warring with a rising worry at the way she's acting.

She looks away, focusing her gaze on EDI's console before finally managing to drag it back to him. "I need to ask you..." She exhales, and continues quietly, "Do you remember much of last night?"

Everything. He hasn't got as drunk as she was in _years; _his mind was still pretty clear_._

A pull on the brim of his cap, and he's meeting her eye, waiting for her to look away. He wonders whether to lie; would be simpler, and they can pretend that nothing happened. Something _did, _though, and after what she told him...

"The important stuff," he replies, _almost _casually, except for the way his voice quietens on the last words and the swallow that follows his reply.

She bites her lip, avoids his eyes, and says, her voice dropping even lower, "I'm sorry. It was unprofessional, and I was drunk..." A low curse, and she looks at him. "It really wasn't fair, and... I think I should go. Give you time to think things over." She lets out a breath.

"It's not like I can report you," he says, as he sees her start to turn away. Cerberus aren't exactly strict about "fraternization"; hell, the history between Jacob and Miranda is so obvious that _Legion_'s probably spotted it.

She _almost _fools him, but he sees the pause, her shoulders tensing, before she carries on, and asks bluntly, "It still true?"

She looks back to him, and now he can _see_ her whole body tense. "Is _what _true?_"_

His throat is dry, his pulse too fast, and he expects EDI to pop up any moment with a message about his life signs. That would be... bad. "What you told me the night the ship went down." He sees the panic flicker across the eyes of a woman who has faced down Reapers and Collectors (_twice_), and then it's gone, shut behind the façade she puts on of "Commander Shepard". Oh, no - like she's doing this to him _now_; like he's letting her hide behind her good-little-soldier mask and lie to him. He resists her shutdown the only way he knows how. "Eva..."

The air changes. There's a trace of colour on her cheeks, but she meets his gaze; he expects a lie about the drink screwing with her head, _something_, but instead she takes a careful step closer. Another. Then she just says, "It's true."

She watches him in their charged silence, waiting for an answer; he places a hand gently under her chin, leans in. Then he gives one to her, in the form of a kiss that has years' worth of need behind it.

Things progress pretty quickly after that; it's only a couple of steps to the elevator, and she darts a brief glance to the controls, the two of them still in an embrace... She steps away, looks at him, and her mouth opens. Her eyes are anxious.

He tenses. _Great, _she's worried about _breaking _him_._

Her tone is soft and questioning (as well as a little breathless, he notes with satisfaction). "This too soon for you?" she asks, and he notices the emphasis on the _for you. _Not her. Not about the Vrolik's after all, he realizes.

Nope, not too soon. They're just making up for lost time.

He brings his lips back to hers, pressing the button for the Loft.


	3. Three months later

_The strange chapter number is intentional - this is extra material in light of ME3's release being so close, but is absolutely part of the story (which was started before I played _Arrival, _hence the changes)._

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><p><strong>Wrong Time, Wrong Place<strong>

**03 / 02**

**Three months later**

The great Commander Shepard, saviour of the Citadel and the galaxy, has finally been taken down. Not by Reapers, or Collectors, or by a war.

By red tape, and paperwork, and an Alliance that couldn't give a shit about bravery or years of service. Or even Reaper invasions.

She has to hand herself in, they've said, like a lamb to the slaughter, for trial. He grits his teeth, looks away from her, but she brings his face back to hers, her eyes soft.

"We could just..." he starts, then trails off. He shrugs, the words sounding hoarse and desperate even to his own ears, as he says, "Fly. We don't have to do this - "

"I do," she says, like it's the simplest thing in the world. "I have nothing to hide. I did what was _right_."

"You can't let them... mmph." She shuts him up by giving him a lingering kiss, then stands, brushes herself off.

"How do I look?" she asks, holding her arms out and doing a slow twirl in her dress uniform.

"Um... commanderly?" he tries.

She laughs, but it's forced. "Good." The word is quiet, and there's a shake to it. They walk to the elevator, her hand warm in his, and separate when it arrives at the CIC.

She's there, with a hand on his shoulder as always. Her voice is quiet, but the shake is gone, as she says calmly, "Set a course for the Citadel."

He briefly places a hand over hers, words unneeded, and then does.

* * *

><p>•<p>

_I understand that these were very, very late chapters - blame writer's block and good ol' forgetfulness. I haven't been as involved with the ME fandom of late - BioWare's other lovely IP, Dragon Age, got in the way somewhat - but that will change with the release of ME3. I've been missing it, anyway. I told myself that I was going to finish this __**before**_ _the third game came out, and managed to._

_By the way... (Nodding patiently) I understand that a Jokermance in ME3 would make all of my stories non-canon, yes. I would still love with all my little fangirl heart for it to happen._

_Here's to ME3, and series two of the oneshots (hopefully). :)_


End file.
